


i want to fuck him.

by Anonymous



Series: John/David bits & pieces [2]
Category: Deep Cover (1992)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Gang Rape, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Power Dynamics, Psychological Trauma, Racism, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 09:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: John wants to play with David a little bit more, see if he can't crack that shell.





	i want to fuck him.

**Author's Note:**

> These are bad men doing bad things. Please heed the warnings.

David is a mess.

It’s been an interesting few weeks, letting David run in his usual circles - a little antsy, without the coke, but getting by, getting by. John’s gotten him to do more hours at his  _real_  work, focusing on just being an attorney, spending more time at home with Miranda and Nancy, and–

Honestly, it’s made David  _very_  strung out, desperate to unwind once he’s out with John, but…

It’s interesting.

David had seen a girl last night, some piece with a fat ass and a leopard print nightdress on instead of fucking clothes, pretty girl, her skin dark and with a cold glow in the dim light… And David, he’d  _hesitated_  when she’d smiled at him - he’d fucking looked at  _John_ , for– For what? Permission?

John doesn’t know.

But he’d given him the nod, and immediately, David had slid forward, flirted in his usual charismatic way…

“You want to fuck Jason?” Betty had asked, baffled and put-upon. Not angry - she sure as Hell hadn’t been angry, the entire time. More confused than angry, and more confused than indignant. “Why?”

“Well, it’s not about  _you_ ,” John had said.

“Yeah,” Betty had said, bluntly. “I know. But what is it about  _him_?”

“He’s, you know, he’s…  _Broken_. It’s hot. Like he’s a dog just waiting for a leash.”

“You want to fuck a dog?”

“No, Betty, I don’t want to fuck a dog, I–” Betty had laughed at him, laughed her hard, mean laugh, and she’d come a little closer, sliding her palm over his cheek. “I want to fuck  _him_. And just a little, just– I just want to play with him. See if I can get him more controlled.”

“More control,” Betty had murmured, her eyes distant for a second or two. “That, I can understand.”

“You want in?”  Betty had furrowed her dark brows, her beautiful eyes visibly full of disgust.

“On Jason? No. You keep him, John.” 

And, uh, keeping him?

Yeah. John’s doing that. 

David is sweaty from his jog as he comes into the apartment, and that’s exactly why John had decided to get him to come over now - his tracksuit is clinging to him, and John looks him up and down  _un-_ subtly, takes him in. David hasn’t talked about it. Hasn’t talked about the whole, “hey, you rubbed my asshole until I came,” thing.

On Saturday, he made John his breakfast, watched John eat it, hovered for an hour, then eagerly got out of the door after they’d run over the production numbers.

“C’mere,” John says. David swallows.

“Uh, John,” David says. “I’m not– I think you may have, uh, I think you may have got the wrong idea about me, and I– You know, I’m not gonna–” David clears his throat. “I’m not gonna cause a big thing if you want to fuck one of the twink boys, but I’m not gonna let you–”

“Come here, David,” John says, his tone a little harder, this time. David takes a few steps forward, and John doesn’t even hesitate: he reaches between David’s legs, cupping him through the jersey-cotton of his running pants, and David chokes out a noise as John grabs hold of his cock, feels its not-quite-soft length under his palm. “Listen. This– I decide how this goes. You understand me?” David chokes out a noise, and he shakes his head desperately, letting out a frightened little noise that’s just fucking  _pathetic_. “What the Hell is your– Somebody rape you or something?”

“What?” David demands, indignant. “ _No_ , nobody–”

“Someone touch you? Maybe when you were a kid?” John squeezes David’s cock, delighting in the way it gets hard, and David groans, shaking his head again, more emphatically. “Then what is your  _deal_? Are you scared of  _me_?”

“ _No_ , I’m just not a– I don’t want to be fucked, okay? I’m not a… I’m not a twink, I’m not a pretty boy, you can’t…  _do_  that to me. I’m a man.”

“Yeah,” John says, squeezing David’s cock a little harder and making him grunt. “I see that. You know any gays in high school?”

“N–  _Ungh_.”

“Take your fucking pants off.”

“ _No_.” John gets to his feet, shoving the kitchen chair back, and immediately, David shudders, shrinking back slightly. Again, there’s that shiver of fear, and God, it makes John feel good, but–

Hm. 

“You know any gays in high school?” John repeats. David swallows.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Just one. Fag lived up the street from me, we– We used to hang out. ‘Til I realised he was a fag, when we were fifteen, sixteen.” David’s tone is low and evasive, like he’s hoping that John will change the subject: no such fucking luck, David. 

“Yeah?” John asks. His finger is hovering on the zip of David’s track jacket, and he can feel the slight tremble of David’s chest. “How’d you find out? What, he come onto you?”

“No!” David snaps, and John undoes the jacket in one slick movement, pushing it back from David’s tight, sweat-soaked t-shirt. David barely seems to notice, he’s so focused on his own indignation, and John has to keep himself from grinning. “No, he didn’t fucking–  _No_. I found out because I, uh… I don’t want to talk about this, I need to–” 

“David,” John says slowly, “ _honey_.” David’s lips part open, and his eyes soften. Yeah, John really needs to be careful not to overuse that little trump card, but Christ, it’s great for now. “I’m just trying to get to  _know_  you better, David. Just tryna get a little closer.”

“You’re plenty close.”

“Well, I want to get closer,” John says sharply. “Your dick’s hard, David. What, you saying that’s for somebody else? How’d you find out he was a homo?”

“Walked in on him,” David says, his voice short and snappy. “In the locker room. One of the track team, he– They found out Mikey was a homo, ‘cause he had a skin mag in his locker or something, a faggy skin mag.”

“And?”

“They were fucking him.”

“The track team was fucking him? The homo?”

“Yeah. Two of ‘em, the McKinley brothers, were spit-roasting him when I walked in, making him choke on it. He was small, compared to them - they were big guys, muscular. He couldn’t fight ‘em off, but he was fucking trying.”

“They black?” John asks, wondering if this is the source of David’s  _specific_  fetish, for black people. It’s fucked, if it is, but– It’s fucked either way. David stares at him. 

“What? No. There were barely any blacks at my school - the McKinleys were Irish.” John arches an eyebrow. 

“You can be black and Irish.”

“You can be black and  _shut up_ ,” David snaps, and John snorts, but to punish him for that particular comment, he takes hold of the waistband of David’s jogging pants, and he shoves them down. His cock, half-hard, sizable and neatly cut, bounces a little, and John grabs for it again, feeling it in his palm - it fills his hand pretty nicely. 

“They were spitroasting him, huh,” John murmurs. “That turn you on?” David doesn’t say anything. At his sides, his hands are clenching into fists and then relaxing periodically, and when John drags his thumb over David’s cockhead, feeling where it’s wet, David grunts. “Give you a hard-on? Bet you fucking loved it, seeing him get railed like that.”

“They gangbanged him,” David chokes out, “took turns. He was fucking… They were just destroying him. Mikey’s asshole was pink and open, wet as fuck, come slick on his thighs and dripping down his asscheeks. He was crying, too, so his face was sticky, and they kept slapping their dicks against his face, kept making him choke on their cocks.” David is trembling, John can feel, and his pupils are dilated as Hell, round and dark. His cock is hard, too, hard as a fucking steel rod, jerking in John’s hand, but he’s fucking–

“They offer you a turn?”

“Uh huh.”

“You take it?”

“No.” John laughs as understanding dawns, low and quiet. There’s humiliation on David’s face, and he sees the fists clench, so he twists his own: David moans, and his fists loosen. 

“You wanted them to fuck you, is that it? You wanted all those guys to take their turn riding your cunt red?”

“Fuck you, John,” David snaps out through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t try to pull away. 

“You  _did_ ,” John purrs, delighted. “So you’re not just a fag–”

“I’m not a fucking fag!”

“But you want to be a  _fucktoy_. That it, David? You want a load of guys to wreck that cunt of yours, turn you into a fucking comedumpster?” David lunges, but John is too quick for him: he has David by the throat in a heartbeat, and as soon as he bends David down over the couch, David changes his tune.

“No!” he snaps out, gasping in a breath. “No, no, no, let me go, let me– Don’t, John, don’t, I don’t want it, I don’t want it, I  _don’t_ –” John grinds his crotch against David’s bare ass, so that David can feel John’s cock hard in his slacks, and David  _sobs_. He’s fucking terrified, shaking apart at the seams, and John can’t help the little laugh that starts low in his throat - he wouldn’t laugh at anyone else, but–

At David?

David’s fair game.

“I told you, David,” John murmurs, and he grinds himself purposefully against David’s ass. “I’m not gonna fuck you. I’m only gonna fuck you when you  _ask_  for it, baby - when you admit that you want it. For now…” John flips David over, so that his back is pressed up against the couch, and he wraps his hand around David’s cock again, squeezing him as he jacks him off, leaning right in. David shudders in his breaths as John comes closer, almost close enough to kiss, and he can smell the mint on David’s breath. “You wanna kiss me?”

David chokes as he comes, and John feels the shift and pulse of David’s cock in his hand, feels his heavy breathing. David’s come is messy on John’s hand and stained into his own shirt, and John wipes his hand on David’s thigh.

“Call Nancy,” John says lowly, huskily. He can  _feel_  the electric excitement David feels at being so close to John, close enough to kiss, but not daring to bridge the gap. “Tell her you’ll see her tomorrow night. You can stay here.”

“Where’s Betty?”

“Santa Fe, visiting her sister.”

“James?”

“Staying at his friend Paulie’s.” David bites his lip.

“You can sleep in the bed with me, David,” John murmurs, holding the offer out like the bait it is. David swallows hard, the eagerness to be close obviously fighting with the fear of John’s cock. “Besides, you can’t go back to Nancy like  _that_. You smell like come.” That’s the last straw, he thinks, the last push David needs - almost shyly, stiffly, David nods his head.

John smiles, and he gestures for David to follow him.

“C’mon. Bath.”

David doesn’t hesitate before he obeys this time. 


End file.
